I know that you're all I see
by JuliaRuairc
Summary: Late-night calls, telescopes, and those kinds of gifts you give each other when you're eleven billion light-years apart. (Established Sheriarty in SPACE!)


It's roughly 03:00 Federation time and John is asleep. But Sherlock is working. They'd been out all day pursuing these pirates. The detective had found their base planet, but still not how they were lifting the cargo. He's sitting in the control room, thinking.

There's the tweet of the ship's computer receiving a message.

"Sir, you have a call from a redacted number. Shall I put it through?" 221b's automated voice speaks into his earpiece.

A redacted number in this day and age was a rarity and practically gave away who was calling. It was times like these when, Sherlock was alone and awake, that Jim was inclined to give him a call. However, from the detective's tracking of the criminal's movements, he would be in the Tarinian galaxy. The 221b was just off the rings of Gregor. The distance was too far for the transmission of images; so there would be no video accompaniment to their dialogue. Sherlock pouted slightly. He liked seeing Jim's many varied expressions.

"Is John asleep?" Sherlock had to check. It was a delicate line to walk maintaining his friendship with the doctor and his relationship with the man he was supposed to be hunting. (Well, he was hunting him...Sherlock just didn't say what he would do if he 'caught' him.)

"..." The systems did not take long to check on the doctor. "Yes, sir."

"Put it through."

"Where are you, sweet?" Jim's lilting brogue is low.

"The Bridge. Alone." Sherlock was still reviewing the maps he had of the pirates comings and goings. Jim had never minded him multitasking. (He knew how to get Sherlock's attention when he wanted _all _of it.)

"Working on what?"

"There's a band of pirates stealing supply shipments in the Gregorian galaxy." Mycroft had asked for his legwork as these were the Federation's shipments, and though Sherlock abhorred helping his brother, the problem was occupying.

"Helping your brother, then." There's a pause. Sherlock wonders briefly if Moriarty had a hand in this. He dismisses the thought quickly though; these pirates were clever but it wasn't Moriarty's clever.

"The case is interesting enough."

"You asked me what I wanted for next Tuesday?" Jim queried, getting to the real reason he called. It would be the anniversary of little Carl Powers death (their beginning) and though they were most certainly not at all sentimental, Sherlock knew Jim would give him a particularly intricate puzzle to solve and frankly he wanted to do something for the criminal. But he didn't know what, so he asked Jim. (_I'm going to watch you dance. _Was Jim's first answer._ Something more than dancing, Jim._ The criminal had said he would think on it. Apparently, he'd came up with something.)

Sherlock hurmed, to let Jim know he was all ears; even if he was still working on this.

"You'll recall the telescope I was making?" Jim had been working on it off and on for the last few months. He claimed that, when he was done, it would be the most powerful ever made. It would have the ability to see all the way across the universe, through _galaxies_, if you had a clear line of sight. And, most importantly of all, the resulting image would be as limpid as if he were in the same room. "Well, I have just put the finishing touches on it and would like to test it out on a worthy subject."

"Oh really?" Sherlock chuckles, sitting back from his work.

"Would you be a dear and go stand in front your right observation window?"

Sherlock gets up to go stand in front the window Jim has his telescope in sight of. There's a minute of silence. He would wonder if the call had dropped, but he hears Jim's rustling about on the other end.

"Is it working?" the detective throws up his hands.

"You have no idea," when Jim finally speaks, the delight is brimming from his voice.

"Even at this distance?"

"Well, I can see that you haven't brushed your hair in at least thirty hours and the slight fraying of your silk robe where it must have caught on some of the mechanics of your ship and now you're fighting off a smirk, but-"

The detective scoffed. Why did he doubt the criminal?

"You just want me to stand here then?" Sherlock's tone is ironic but there's something else, which makes Jim grin.

"Are you offering something more?" The criminal's voice slipped to seductive.

Sherlock smirked, inclining his head.


End file.
